


Whereas by an Act

by cassieoh



Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: American Revolution, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Smitten Crowley, brief non-graphic mention of blood/injury, literally nothing more descriptive than the summary, who tries to make Aziraphale feel better even when he's the one who's hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/pseuds/cassieoh
Summary: Crowley scowled and poked at his thigh, watching in pain-detached disinterest as blood welled up.“Stop that!” Aziraphale batted his hand away, “I told you to keep pressure on it.”“No you didn’t.” Crowley thought it was awfully unfair for Aziraphale to be annoyed with him when he was the one who’d been shot. “You said not to poke it and to hold this.” He raised the crumpled remnant of Aziraphale’s fine coat in his left hand. “I’m holding it.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902277
Comments: 17
Kudos: 89
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #06 "I Had No Idea That Would Happen!"





	Whereas by an Act

**Author's Note:**

> It was pointed out to me that the end of this could be read as discorporation. That was not my intent but I can definitely see it, so I just wanted to give a warning in case that was something someone wanted to avoid.

Crowley scowled and poked at his thigh, watching in pain-detached disinterest as blood welled up. 

“Stop that!” Aziraphale batted his hand away, “I told you to keep pressure on it.” 

“No you didn’t.” Crowley thought it was awfully unfair for Aziraphale to be annoyed with _him_ when he was the one who’d been shot. “You said not to poke it and to hold this.” He raised the crumpled remnant of Aziraphale’s fine coat in his left hand. “I’m holding it.” 

“ _On the wound_ _you blasted-”_ Aziraphale cut himself off and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. His breath smelled like tea. 

“You’ve been baaaad,” Crowley said, lilting his voice in the sing-song way he knew Aziraphale was secretly fond of, for all that he’d probably rather discorporate than admit it. “Been buying tea, have you?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to his and then back down to Crowley’s thigh. “I would never. You know Heaven told me to end this war as bloodlessly as possible.” Crowley very graciously didn’t call him on the blatant lie as Aziraphale began to use his boot knife to carefully cut away Crowley’s pant-leg. He groaned, leaning back against the pile of barrels he’d managed to reach before collapsing. 

“Tea, sssugar, prolly even wine,” he said and was startled to discover a slight slur to his speech. He hadn’t even had anything to drink yet. “You’re,” he paused to pant past a sharp stab of pain, “… cruel doc, no booze for the injured d-demon?” 

“None to be found, my dear,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I’m terribly sorry. I could use a Miracle but-”

But it was war and Crowley knew how few healing Miracles Aziraphale was granted access to in any given quarter. 

“S’alright,” he tried to sketch a smile but the tight corners of Aziraphale’s mouth told him he missed by about as much as a Lexingtonian with his neighbor’s musket. He couldn’t reassure, couldn’t heal himself past the pain and blood loss, couldn’t hunt Gabriel down to shake a few more Miracles loose for Aziraphale. Couldn’t do anything but; 

“George’s gonna b’pissed at you,” he slurred. 

Aziraphale snorted startlingly inelegantly and Crowley was seized by the mad desire to kiss his worries away. 

“Which one?” Aziraphale asked. “I cannot imagine either likes me too much.” 

“Yeah?” Crowley’s eyes were half-lidded now and he watched through his lashes as Aziraphale dug around in his pack for the little leather satchel of medical supplies he always kept on hand. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale glanced up at him and now he did smile. “I, perhaps, incited Mr. Adams to his actions in Boston. Unintentionally, of course.”

Crowley snorted. “You never.” 

“I did! Of course, I had no idea this would happen.” He gestured towards the battlefield. 

“Course.” Crowley could barely keep his eyes open. Aziraphale lay one hand on his stomach. “Hm?” 

“Rest, my dear. You’ll soon be right as rain.” 

“Mghpf.” 

“Quite. Dream of whatever you love best, Crowley.” 

He knew nothing more. 


End file.
